


Modesty Schemes

by PureBatWings



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artists, Aurors, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Credence Barebone Lives, Modesty's POV, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Not gonna rehash movie, Past Child Abuse, Protective Credence Barebone, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PureBatWings/pseuds/PureBatWings
Summary: Modesty Barebone loves chocolate cake and art and bright colors. And her brother Credence is the best big brother, too!Usual legal disclaimers apply. Not my characters, not for money, no copyright infringement implied.





	

She loved him to death, she really did, but why were boys and brothers in particular so clueless? Credence was magic, of course he was, how else would he manage almost daily to divert Mary Lou’s attention from beating her or making her go without a meal? Mary Lou might preach on occasion about how the righteous would be rewarded, but her creed at home was spare the rod, spoil the child.

And while Modesty and Chaz weren’t spoiled, they didn’t come in for the whalings with a belt that Dence seemed to get every few days. She and Chastity tried to patch him up between beltings.

Dence was her absolute favorite person in the world. He was the _best_ older brother, he’d always been there protecting her, giving her bits of his food when portions were skimpier than usual, getting her out of the house when Mary Lou would stew at the beginning of the month after paying rent on the church and come home from the bank, shutting herself in her office to try juggling their finances to keep her mission afloat, if not expanding.

Chaz preferred to stay close to home in case Mary Lou needed help with something. She liked being useful and busy, and reading just the bible and sermons from Puritans that their foster mother gave them. She found comfort in rituals—church on Sundays, and the predictability of folding pamphlets in perfect thirds. Modesty scoffed, the miracles in the bible were magic, why were those okay to read, but not her Oz books? She hated getting papercuts under her fingernails when she got too bored folding to pay attention.

Credence had found most of the fourteen books in the Oz series here and there in second hand bookstores near Union Square for her. They had fashioned a hiding place in the broom closet. A loose board had enough space underneath so that she could stow the books between the floor joists. It was certainly magic that Chaz or Mary Lou never found the American fairytales, or that most evenings between seven and nine everyone would somehow be busy with something and that she could sneak a chapter or two’s reading after she’d helped with the cleaning up chores.

They had been doing street side revival meetings downtown since late summer. It was now October and getting chilly. She and Chastity stood close together on the bank steps for warmth while Credence wandered through the crowd, stuffing pamphlets about the perils of unchecked magic into people’s hands.  She watched him eyeing a sharp-dressed man who was smoking (something else Mary Lou labelled a sin) and listening to Mary Lou’s theories about how evil witches ensnared and tricked normal people.

Mary Lou was reaching an ending crescendo which was the sisters’ cue to venture down into the crowd to pass out leaflets before people left the scene.  The man in the finely tailored black coat was engaging Credence in a friendly-looking conversation. Maybe he might take a liking to Credence who was very polite and helpful and he might give her brother a job.

She imagined herself as something irresistibly sweet, a human form of honey or sugar, drawing in the people like flies or bees. The days she did this, she got rid of her brochures much faster. And if Mary Lou was busy answering questions, Modesty could snatch some pamphlets from Credence and hand them out for him. He used to protest that it was unfair until she pointed out that she happened to be little and cute and blonde and they needed to use every advantage they had to get around Mary Lou’s rules and avoid her punishments, especially Credence.

She was glad she had only been taken out of school one day this week to help the Second Salemers. She knew she could make all As and learn so much more if Mary Lou would let her go every school day to P.S. 42 at the corner of Orchard and Hester Streets.

She loved, loved, loved going to school on Wednesdays. Wednesdays was art class. They would learn about famous artists like Michelangelo and Gilbert Stuart who painted President Washington. And then, her favorite part, they got to practice drawing things themselves and coloring them in with crayons or colored pencils. She knew she could bring her drawings home if she made them about bible stories.

When her teacher had them draw autumn leaves, she drew leaves that, with a few more strokes of her crayon after the teacher had seen her work could be turned into Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego standing in the fire unharmed, or a lion in a circus or the Central Park Zoo into Daniel in the lion’s den.

She made gifts for her family—she made a picture for Chastity of her praying with angels who had gorgeous rainbow wings and bright yellow halos and pretty nightgowns. For Mary Lou, she copied the Second Salemers’ banner design with the broken wand and a Bible open behind it to the book of Exodus where it said not to suffer a witch to live.

 For Credence, she created a picture of her first memory from when she was about three. Her drawing showed the two of them walking together, window-shopping and enjoying the bright colors of things for sale in Chinatown. That picture had a lot of red and gold, and in the middle of the color was Credence, in his usual black and white, holding her hand. She gave herself a bright green coat in the picture, even though most of her clothing was a sensible blue or grey, and both of their faces had half-circle smiles on them.

The week after Modesty saw Credence talking with the handsome older man, Mary Lou held a rally near the Woolworth skyscraper, the tallest building in the world. Their adoptive mother liked the idea of preaching God’s Word in the shadow of the famed Cathedral of Commerce.

Modesty and Chastity were sent out to encourage people to come down the block to hear the message. Chastity went up Broadway while Modesty went along Barclay Street, heading west. Everyone looked too busy and in a rush to bother. People milled around her and she saw a flash of color against the grey gutter and went over to investigate what it was. No one else seemed interested. She stooped down and reached out. The stick jumped into her hand and felt… warm.  It wasn’t just a straight stick, it was a wand, a real witch’s wand! She darted a look around and no one seemed to notice her in the least. She knew Thou Shalt not Steal, but it had come to her, like a magical puppy following her home. She stuck the wand up her long sweater sleeve and tucked in her dress sleeve so that it wouldn’t fall out, and scurried back to where Mary Lou had started to preach.

Once they got home, she locked herself in the bathroom after supper and pulled out her find to examine it. It was about a foot in length, dark brown wood and at the thicker end there was a white stone that had flecks of rainbow colors that shimmered and changed as she turned the wand, rolling it in her fingers. There were curving spirals and symbols up and down its sides.

 It was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, aside from flowers in Seward Park in the spring and tinted colored pictures in the art books in the library across from the park on Jefferson Street. Another beautiful color was brown— it was the warm look in Credence’s eyes when she remembered something he taught her that wasn’t from the Bible, such as all the verses to America the Beautiful.

Her favorite line was about purple mountains' majesty. She wanted to see a real rainbow and purple mountains someday when she grew up and left the dingy tenements of New York. Credence liked the idea of “alabaster cities, undimmed by human tears” even though they both knew that was a lie.

She slunk into the bedroom that she and Chastity shared and hid the wand as far as her arm could reach between the thin mattress and the edge of the wooden bed frame.

+  +  +

Credence was acting funny. He was talking more with the street kids they fed and used to hand out pamphlets. He asked them about magic and what would they do if they met someone magic. No one seemed to be interested in talking with him about that, they were far more interested in seeing if they might get a second hunk of bread with their watery soup. On the nights she didn’t get much, Modesty would dream of food—pearly onions, orange carrots, yellow corn and red tomatoes as bright as Chinatown shop signs, all colorful in a green pea soup base.

She grabbed him after supper one night and said, “Don't go to sleep right away, Dence. I don't want that snitch Chastity hearing what I have to tell you."  He nodded and glanced over to see Chastity watching them suspiciously as she washed the soup bowls thoroughly.

 "There's still some dishes for you to dry, Modesty. You know Ma hates sloth," Chaz said, throwing a dishcloth at her. Modesty ducked into a mocking curtsy and stuck out her tongue as she grabbed the flying cloth. "Shut up, you’re not the queen or even the Princess of York, you bossy thing.”

"Ecclesiastes 12:14: For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil," retorted Chastity. Modesty hated it when she acted like she’d gotten the final word in an argument, when it wasn’t even her own words, it was God’s.

 Modesty crossed her eyes at her older sister who scowled, and turned back to the grey, barely warm greasy water and the stacks of used soup bowls clattering with well-licked spoons.

To get back at her sister who couldn’t even sing hymns well, she started singing a new popular song she’d heard while passing out leaflets near a Times Square theatre with Credence:

Mary Lou, Mary Lou,  
Cross my heart, I love youuuuu,  
Every bell in the steeple is ready to riiiing  
And all the people are planning pretty presents all for youuuu.  
Mary Lou, won't you give me your promise true?  
Why for miles around they're waiting, to start their celebrating  
When you say "I do", Mar-reee Louuu…”  she finished loudly, almost yelling in Chastity’s ear.

“Oh shut up, you brat!” said Chastity crossly and shoved her away from the sink as she dumped another load of dishes into the sudsy water.

“Ma says, “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, ye that have tongues that sing true.” You couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it, Chaz,” retorted Modesty, but stopped singing, so Chastity wouldn’t smack her hard, somewhere a bruise wouldn’t readily show.

Credence said "Modesty!" reprovingly, so she started drying dishes, but he knew too that Chastity was no great shakes as a singer. He put another large lidded stockpot brimming with water on the stove to heat up for the next round of dish washing. Whatever was left after dishes would have to serve for sponge baths for the three of them.

Once they had finished their chores, Mary Lou led them in their evening prayers, imploring God for mercy on all those weak of faith, tempted to lie, and those who kept secrets from their parents. She looked sharply at Modesty, who ducked her head and tried to radiate unvarnished innocence with mixed success. As usual, Mary Lou prayed for a long time.

Modesty piously closed her eyes and ignored her cold knees, but she prayed rebelliously for all the things _she_ wanted—all kinds of colors in her life, to be a real artist when she grew up, to learn magic and recite poetry and how to sing like the women in the ads for _The Girl Friend_ she’d seen advertised outside the Winter Garden Theatre uptown on Broadway.

The Barebones turned in to bed. Modesty waited for a good long time until she was certain Chastity was asleep in her bed and she slipped out of their room and down the hall to the converted closet where Credence slept on a pallet. She crouched by him and tapped his cheek. His face felt warm against her fingers.

He raised his blanket so she could slip in next to him and let her warm her icy feet on his shins without complaining. She snuggled up to him, arranging his arm so it wrapped around her shoulders and her face was close to his. He smelled like soap from the sponge bath and just Credence, a familiar and comforting scent.

"Don't you ever believe Mary Lou and Chastity, Credence, you're a good person and the best big brother a girl could have," she said quietly after her shivering stopped.

"What did you want to tell me about, Testy, bestest lil sis?" he murmured. She was happy that she was thawing a little from her barefoot walk down the hall. Credence was an excellent hot-water bottle substitute. Mary Lou considered anything that would add to her children’s comfort to be coddling. Coddling was almost a full-fledged wickedness in her categories of different types of evil.

"Why have you been asking the street kids about magic?" she inquired, as she snuggled into him like a cat seeking the warmest spot in the sunshine.

"I've got a side job, Modesty, one that pays good money. And you can't tell anyone, you promise?”

She nodded quickly, she’d learned how important secrets were to keep at a very young age.

“My boss is a witch—a wizard, I mean. He's trying to find a magical child who’s sick and afraid of his or her magic and lives near here and I'm helping him search."

"Jeepers!" her eyes grew wide. "I won't tell, I swear. Tell me about him, does he have warts and a black cat and ride a broom?"

"No, he’s nothing like those pictures on Halloween cards. His name is Mr. Graves. He's my height, with short grey hair at his temples that makes him look really distinguished. He's some kind of magic policemen. I think he’s the boss wizard for their police. He's got strong thick eyebrows, deep brown eyes you could drop into forever and he's take charge, but also caring.

He healed me where Ma beat my hands and gave me an extra meal. I’ll give you and Chastity some of it tomorrow morning while Ma’s busy writing her speeches. And he got me something I saved especially for you since I had a piece at lunch."

“What’s that? Enchanted gingerbread like Hansel and Gretel?”

“Better. Chocolate layer cake with icing.”

They were both silent a few moments, contemplating the miracle of desserts. They scrounged dessert perhaps a dozen times a year, sometimes stale muffins about to be thrown out from a bakery. If Modesty and Chastity wandered near the synagogues on Forsythe or Eldridge streets during Purim they might be given some triangular cookies with filling called hamantaschen, even though they were _goyim_ kids. Mary Lou had a reputation as a crazy witch hating preacher in their neighborhood, so everyone knew them by default.

 Modesty dragged her greedy sweet-tooth thoughts from the promise of cake.  "I think I know who you mean, he wears really nice clothes and smokes, right?” Credence nodded, a small smile flitting around his lips as he remembered the man. He looked happy, for once. 

“Credence has a crush…" she teased, sing-song, then made smooching noises with her lips.  She liked trying to shock him and then make him smile, so she said something outrageous that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap. "You gonna let him kiss you? Pick you up like the inverts in Times Square? Gonna spoon together under a June moon? I think he’s the bee’s knees if you like handsome older fellas with dark hair.”

"Modesty! He's a man, that's a sin," he protested. She noticed he didn’t say he didn’t want to kiss the other man or that she was wrong about Credence carrying a torch for him.

"I say love is good.  Just not the sort of love Mary Lou talks about before she whips you.  You make sure he cares about you too. Have you found this magic kid or have any clue who it could be?"

"No, I haven't," confessed Credence. "I'm afraid he won't want to talk with me again when he hears I've failed. Was my asking about magic what you wanted to talk about?"

"Kind of. Listen, you gotta keep it mum from Ma and Chaz-- I found a wand last week before one of the rallies--"

“You did? Where? Down near the Woolworth building?”

She nodded. “No one else seemed to see it, even though it was lying in the gutter, plain as you please, sparkling rainbows. So I picked it up and brought it home, hid it. I’ll show you sometime, it’s beautiful. I bet even Joseph’s coat didn’t have as many colors as the big stone at the end has.”

They both froze as they heard Chastity stub her toes and utter a broken off curse as she made her way down the hall. Chastity poked her head around the door frame of Credence's closet.

"Wicked girl. Get back to bed before I tell Ma you're up talking with Credence, and she whips you both."

Modesty gave Credence a worried look imploring him to keep her secret. He nodded once and, reassured, she skittered back to her room, followed by Chastity hissing warnings at her about misbehavior.

+   +   +

Credence seemed even more depressed than usual, though how that was possible Modesty wasn’t sure. He seemed to hunch more, like all the sins of the world were his personal doing. He didn’t want to talk about Mr. Graves any more.

She had pressed him for more details about their weekly conversations and all he would say was, “he’s changed, Modesty. He used to be kind to me and care about what I told him, but now he’s not, I don’t matter except for what I can do for him, which is nothing. It’s my fault, of course, I’ve failed to find the magic child for him. I need to keep looking in lots of different places around here and maybe I’ll find the boy or girl then.”

He sounded very discouraged. Of course, it didn’t help that his gloomy face turned even the most sympathetic person from wanting to talk with him. She was having to swipe more of his pamphlets than ever so he wouldn’t go hungry for days from not passing out his portion.

+  +  +

Mary Lou took them to an impressive office building to meet an important newspaper owner, Mr. Shaw and his two sons, one of whom Mary Lou had convinced of the rightness of their cause and how witches were behind the scenes in a conspiracy, manipulating everything. His brother, Henry Shaw, the Senator for all of New York state, was dismissive and busy and called Credence a freak.

Modesty bunched her hands into fists at her sides when he said that and bit her lip to keep from shouting at the man. Her brother wasn’t a freak! Credence was good and patient with her and had the kindest heart in the world. If that was wrong, then she was going to stand with the freaks herself when she grew up.

They got home and from there, everything went crazy faster than a Bowery wino.  Modesty was showing Credence her lovely wand and then she heard Mary Lou prowling nearby and froze, they were staring at each other in panic.  Mary Lou came to investigate why Credence was in the girls’ room, without her knowledge.

As she entered the room, the opal and other colorful stones shimmered and vanished away. Its sparkle seemed to go out like a burnt lightbulb. Credence and Modesty stood motionless, looking scared, with Credence holding the wand gingerly.

Mary Lou advanced first on Modesty, who stood shivering in her thin white nightgown. “What is this? Is that yours, little witch? A young she-viper nourished at my chest, warmed at my hearth, eating my food?” Terrified, Modesty shook her head fervently, too scared to speak, before she realized that Credence would now take the blame, maybe get beaten to death, given how much Mary Lou hated witches.

Mary Lou took the wand. It looked like a plain stained brown stick, no longer beautiful. Modesty backed out of the room and into the part of the hall that was an open balcony looking down into the main chapel. Credence followed her out, his hands shaking in fear of the pain soon to come.

 “Take it off,” Mary Lou ordered, turning her ire on her favorite victim.  Credence fumbled with the buckle of his belt, his eyes pleading for mercy from the ruthless fanatic. “Please, Ma…”

“Wait! I lied, it’s mine,” Modesty pleaded. Credence had already taken so many beatings for her.

Mary Lou shook her head reproachfully. “Modesty. Don’t try to protect this witch spawn, he’s just like his wicked unnatural mother,” she spat.  She lifted the wand in both hands and snapped it in two.

Modesty was too heartbroken to whimper at the loss. She knew Credence was about to get whipped hard and it was all her fault. Through the balcony’s railing, she saw Chastity come out of the downstairs workroom to see what the yelling was about, but Chaz made no move to intervene.

Credence’s belt flew out from his hand, slashing across Mary Lou’s palm before lying on the choir loft floor at the edge of the balcony, quivering like a live, snakelike thing. She gasped, “What is this?” and leaned down to pick up her makeshift whip.

The belt darted off like a strange ribbon-like leather bird into the darkness. She turned around to face Credence and Modesty again. Her face was shocked and furious for a second before the world went crazy.

Credence exploded into a smoke flume of black and grey. The seething smoky mass tossed Mary Lou like a rag doll up against the chapel's rafters with a sickening crack, let her body hover for a moment, midair, then dropped her marked corpse. The main beam shattered and fell on Chastity with a wet crunch. Scattered wood and bricks pelted Modesty as the Obscurus exploded out of the chapel’s walls. Modesty blacked out, buried under debris.

She awoke to cold wind and heavy pieces of wood and shattered rafters being lifted off of her. Then she realized she hurt like she’d been beaten all over and her right leg really hurt too. She tried not to scream, Mary Lou hated screaming and tears, they were a sign of weakness and ungodliness. A lot of grownups all dressed in leather jackets and fedoras were using wands and levitating the weight off her with spells while others were investigating her family’s bodies.

When the final beam was lifted, she was carefully scooped into a magical policewoman’s arms and the world blinked and she felt sick to her stomach and then the world resettled into what looked like a hospital, except there were things floating about on trays and in vials and there were woman doctors and men doctors moving around, checking on injured people.

“Put the no-maj girl here, Auror Garcia, we’ll take care of her internal injuries and that broken tibia, then we can obliviate her after you two question her about the obscurus.”

“Here child, drink this,” directed a nurse with grey eyes. She held Modesty’s nose as she poured a bubbling purple potion down her throat so she was forced to swallow it. She would have drunk it, if only the woman had asked her nicely instead of shoving it down her like she was a sick dog, thought Modesty, lapsing from indignation into unconsciousness again.

She felt much better when she woke up again to the smell of soup.  For one thing, her body didn’t hurt anymore, she just felt tired. And just as good, this wasn’t any old soup, this one was rich and creamy with chicken and vegetables and it was filling enough to be a real meal, no bones about it. The nurses let her eat her meal in silence.

Her eyes, unlike her mouth, were busy, taking in every detail she could about magic. She wished Credence were with her so they could talk about magic things, then she remembered he’d turned into the scary monster-fog that killed Mary Lou. She figured she’d better keep quiet until she knew which way the wind blew, and whether she should admit to once having had a wand someone magic had lost.

Soon after she decided that, the dark-skinned lady who had carried her and a man dressed like her walked into the ward, straight to her bed. The man said a word like muffle as he moved his wand and then he did another spell that put a shimmering soap-bubble like dome over them and the bed and all the noises around them stopped.

Chastity watched, open-mouthed, as Auror Garcia took two buttons from her pocket, tossed them on the floor and changed them into solid looking wood chairs. She and the man sat down in the chairs and pulled them up to her bedside.

“Hello there,” she said, looking at Modesty, “how are you feeling?”

“Better, miss, thank you,” said Modesty, feeling nervous.

“That’s good. I’m Auror Edith Garcia, and this is my coworker, Auror Raedwald Baldwin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” whispered Modesty, even though she could think of many more pleasurable things in life, chocolate cake, for one.

“We are aurors, uh, policemen for magical people, and we wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened at the chapel, and about your family,” he began. “Are you Chastity or Modesty Barebone?”

“Modesty, sir. Chaz is dead, so’s Mary Lou.” Saying out loud made it seem more real and then she realized she sounded stupid, of course they saw the bodies when they were magicking the wall off of her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Garcia, and patted her hand before withdrawing it again.

“Thank you, Miss Garcia.”

“Can you tell us what happened, who killed them?”

“A monster came out of Credence, that’s my big brother, just as Mary Lou was about to beat him, and killed them and left the chapel, bam! Through the walls, like a bomb going off.”  Maybe someday she would be a good enough artist to draw what happened. She would call it Credence’s Revenge.

She expected them to laugh and say “what an imagination you have, little girl!” like grownups did to children they didn’t want to listen to. Instead, their faces looked even more serious and intent.

“What did this monster look like, Modesty?” asked Auror Baldwin, a floating pad and pen beside him taking notes on their questions and her answers.

“Scary. Big and angry. It was black and grey and bubbling smoke. Really strong.”

The aurors looked at each other and nodded in recognition and confirmation. “Obscurus,” they said in unison.

“Tell me about Credence, Modesty, how old is he?”

She brightened. She could tell them about what a good person he was and they could help her find him and get him away from the monster who had come out of him.

“He’s twenty two and a great older brother…” she stopped at the gasp from Auror Baldwin.

“What?” she demanded. “Why is that wrong? And what’s a Scurus?” she decided she liked being the one asking, rather than answering questions.

“An obscurus,” said Auror Garcia, carefully pronouncing the strange word, “is what happens when a magical child isn’t allowed to use his or her magic and is taught to hate and fear their own magic. A parasite, a monster is formed and feeds off of the young witch or wizard child’s repressed magic. Most obscurials, children with this creature inside them, don’t live past ten or so, that’s why Auror Baldwin was so surprised.”

“Mary Lou hates, um hated, magic and witches. She beats Credence because his mother was a witch, at least that’s what she said last night. She says he’s sinful, but that’s not true, he’s kind and looks out for me and kept Mary Lou from punishing me.”

She thought about what the woman just said about the obscurial child. A magic child… She decided to ask another couple of questions. “Do you work with Mr. Graves? He wanted Credence to find a magic child like the kind you’re talking about. I guess Credence didn’t think he was the one Mr. Graves was looking for ‘cuz he was an adult?”

The aurors exchanged another significant look and Baldwin shook his head at Garcia’s inquiring raised eyebrow. “Not until we find the real Director. Redirect questioning.”

“Modesty, did you ever see Credence do anything magic?”

“Nuh-uh, that’s a sin. He protects me. He can see the things I can see and Chaz and Mary Lou couldn’t.”

“Why did Mary Lou want to beat him? What did he do last night?” asked Auror Baldwin.

Modesty’s lip quivered. “It was my fault,” she mumbled. “I should’ve been the one punished.”

“I’m sure you’re a good girl, Modesty, you’re being a really big help to us so we can help your brother,” he said reassuringly.

Modesty started to cry. “No, it was my fault, if I hadn’t found it and brought it home and showed  Credence. I couldn’t help it even though I knew it was wrong, it was the most beautiful thing and I know pride and avarice are sins, but I wanted something pretty of my very own….”

“Brought what home? Modesty, what did you find?” asked Auror Garcia gently. A handkerchief appeared out of thin air in her brown hand and she passed it to Modesty who blew her nose and scrubbed the shameful tears from her eyes.

She looked up at them. They were being kind to her like Mr. Graves had been kind to Credence, at first. She hoped they wouldn’t turn mean later. She wanted to hit Mr. Graves for hurting her brother’s feelings. She took a deep breath and gambled.

“I found a wand, outside the Woolworth building in the gutter. It was gorgeous, with a white stone with rainbow sparkles. Mary Lou thought it was Credence’s and snapped it in two.”

A knowing look came over Auror Baldwin’s face. “Excuse me,” and stuck his head through the bubble and called over a nurse and passed her a note for the Reported Lost Wands Unit staff before re-seating himself.

“Modesty, do you do anything special? What are your talents?”

“I can draw and I can make people take my flyers. Then I help Credence with his share.”

“How do you do that?”

“I imagine I’m something sweet and the people are flies or bees wanting honey. It works really well. Oh! and I’m lucky at always finding pennies when I really, really want some candy.”

Auror Garcia snorted in amusement. “I bet you are. Modesty, no two ways about it, you’re a witch. Magical, like your adopted brother Credence. Otherwise you wouldn’t have seen and found the wand, it would just look like a discarded stick or plain piece of wood to you if you were a no-maj, a non-magical person, like Mary Lou.”

Modesty nodded, that made sense. If Credence was magic, she wanted to be magic too. She would figure out how the sinning part came in to it later. “Are you going to help find Credence? I want to see him and make sure he’s okay.”

“Well, we’ll try our hardest to make sure everyone’s okay,” the woman temporized.

“You’ll be staying a few nights here to rest, and we’ll find you foster parents,” said Auror Baldwin, standing up, transforming his chair and passing back the button to Auror Garcia with a courtly bow and a smile.

“Are you two married or dating?” asked Modesty. She wondered how that worked in the witching world, she was curious so she asked anyway, though it was rude and personal.

“I’m with a lovely witch. He just practices flirting with me when he can’t find a date.”

“Hey, that’s untrue, I’d almost convinced that cute blonde to go out with me, then the obscurus thing went down and we had to go,” the man protested.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Raed,” she retorted and studiously ignored him. “Modesty, it was nice talking with you, I hope to see you again, thank you for being so helpful. I’ll make sure that you get books to read about our world and history.”

“You’re welcome, thank you,” Modesty said and the bubble dome popped and the noise of the ward started up again as the aurors walked away, the pen and notebook trailing after Auror Baldwin like a well-trained dog heeling.

+++

Six months later, she couldn’t believe how much things had changed for the better in her life. Mary Lou and Chastity had a marker in a graveyard in Queens and her memories of being scared and hungry all the time were starting to fade.

The Starkweathers, Alistair and Fiona, were her foster parents and had started the process to officially adopt her. She’d had a birthday and turned eleven. Next year, if she caught up enough in school, she could choose whether she’d attend Ilvermorny School in Massachusetts or stay at home and be tutored privately for a year or go to the local school for magic kids until the three of them decided she was ready to go away to boarding school, if ever.

And she had a cat who had adopted her, Greymalkin, and she was learning about herbs, basic potions and English literature from Mr. Starkweather, whom she called Uncle Alistair. He had jokingly told Modesty that most magical folk were cousins and you didn’t have to go back that far to find a connection in the branches of the family tree to be related to someone.

Aunt Fiona was showing her spells and wand work and teaching her charms she should have learned five years ago. She had an amazing wand that was willow, with an amber core the color of honey with an opal at the end and a platinum band around its hilt inscribed with bees and attraction sigils. She had all the paint and paper and parchment and inks and colored pencils she could desire and brushes and lots of books about art and magical artists, all bursting with color. And the pictures moved!

She had seen a rainbow last week when she was sitting in Uncle Alistair’s Romantic Poets class staring out the window into the half sunny, half showery day, waiting for him to finish proctoring exams for his literature students at Sarah Lawrence College. It seemed like one end of the rainbow was with them, somewhere on the hilly campus and the other end arched south, toward the Village townhouse where Credence and Percival Graves lived together.

Credence was being taken care of by Mr. Graves after his obscurus was removed by a British wizard whose brother Mr. Graves had fought beside in the Great War. Dence wouldn’t tell Modesty if he had kissed Mr. Graves yet, but she figured it was just a question of time. Credence was also taking care of Mr. Graves, if her eyes were to be believed, since the older man smiled a lot when Credence was around him on their visits to the Starkweather home in Bronxville. She had seen them holding hands in the greenhouse when they thought they were alone. Credence was learning magic, his wand had a pearl and driftwood decorations.

One thing hadn’t changed and she was glad about it. Credence was still, she would tell anyone who asked, the best big brother in the world.


End file.
